The Signet Assassin
by Scottydog1326
Summary: Evil is afoot several months after the coronation. Things are going well in Arendelle, or are they? Rated M for moderate action, violence, and some adult language.
1. Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy night. Thunder and lightning rolled off into the distance, punctuated with bursts of sharp bitter rain and howling gusts. Perfect for meetings in dimly lit taverns. Perfect for what was about to take place. Perfect for conspiracy. Two men sat across from each other in one such establishment. No one came to The Copper Dragon for the ambiance. They came for the cheap ale, easy accommodations, and even easier serving wenches. It was near enough to the docks and warehouse district to be convenient. Far enough away from where anyone respectable would want to be seen by others. Even with the weather a fright, there were still several sailors and dock workers drinking away the pain of another day's labors.

Hidden in the gray gloom of a back corner were two men, sitting across from each other at a rough plank table. One was small decrepit and bitter looking. He wore the look of a man who enjoyed the sound of coins clinking together more than a lovers laugh. He reminded one of a cranky over grown gnome, if such things truly existed, and who knows? They might after all. The other was a man whose most distinguishing features were that he had none. He was of average height, of average build. He looked vaguely like someone you might know, but would forget about soon after seeing. He may have been twenty-five, he may have been forty-five, it was hard to tell. He wore nondescript dark forest and dun colored clothing. The hood of his well worn traveling cloak covered his head and obscured his face. He may have been a cooper, he may have been a dock worker, he may have been anyone or noone at all. Nothing about him stood out in any way. That was how he preferred it.

In some circles he was known as the signet assassin. He specialized in nobility, in killing hard to reach, well protected targets. Kings, Queens, young, old, it didn't matter to him. What mattered was the job. And the gold. Once he dispatched his victim, he collected their signet ring as proof of the job having been completed. He had amassed an impressive collection. He was the best paid most feared assassin in all the kingdoms, and rightly so. If he accepted a job, it was completed. His skills had started and stopped wars, ensured the outbreak of two revolutions, caused royal dynasties to collapse, and founded new ones. There were enough rewards out for his capture, or better his head, that they could finance a small kingdom for a decade. He prided himself on being able to make history, and yet no one knew his real name.

Scuffed wooden tankards of cheap sour ale were set before the both of them, contributing to the illusion they were there to quaff a few pints and enjoy eying the buxom serving wenches. The assassin's ale lay untouched, alcohol dulled the senses. He always kept his wits about him and rarely drank. The other man's drink was also unconsumed, but only because he couldn't stomach such vile swill, and it showed on his face. In fact, he looked upon the surroundings and the man in front of him with poorly masked disdain. The assassin didn't care, it bothered him not at all. This man was simply another contract, a means to further his own ends and a source of more golds for his purse. He would listen to what the little weasel had to say. If he didn't like it, well, he'd walk away. If the little weasel didn't like it, well, the little weasel wouldn'twalk away.

The wizened little caricature of a man, finally leaned in closer to him and said, "This is what I require of you." The cloaked figure listened attentively as the old man outlined his plan.

"That is beyond what I am usually required to do, he said. My fee will be adjusted upwards 100%."

"What? That's preposterous! I wont pay it" the old man rasped.

"Well then, that's going to be a problem, he replied. I don't like problems, I s_olve _problems. Are _you_ going to be a _Problem?_" he said softly.

The old man was chilled to his very core, this wasn't turning out the way he had planned, not at all. There was no mistaking the intent of his words, despite their benign delivery.

"Very well he mumbled, very well," obviously not liking it.

"Ah, good" replied the cloaked man, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. Lets get the technicalities out of the way, shall we? He quickly produced a small well oiled leather bound portfolio from one of the many interior pockets of his cloak. It proved to be a small, yet well appointed writing set. From it, he withdrew all the accoutrements required to craft a document.

The old mans eyes popped wide in horrified surprise, "surely you don't intend to put this in writing?" he hissed.

"Oh but I do," purred the assassin. This will insure that all of the terms of our agreement are well understood by both parties and that there are no misunderstandings. We don't want any misunderstandings now do we? Consider it a form of insurance, for the both of us, that the agreement is fulfilled.

It only took a few minutes for the agreement to be drawn up. The old man read it thoroughly. All that he had discussed was written down in small tight elegant script. It looked cold blooded in writing, even to him. He signed it, then pressed his own signet ring into the cooling red wax next to the drying ink of his name. He thought rather ironically that the assassin collected signets from his employers as well as his victims. Very clever, very clever indeed. There was no going back now. He handed over the down payment as specified, thinking that this was a small investment for the riches he would make after the nasty deed was done. He now looked at the man who now held his future in his hand and whispered, "when will you start?"

"I'll get started immediately" smiled the assassin. "I hear Arendelle's lovely this time of year."


	2. Chapter 2 It beginns

**A/N Sorry for the short chapter and long wait. Between a management job I spend 50+ hours a week at, and a badly abscessed tooth, I haven't had much time to devote to this as I would like. I will deal more with the Signet Assassin's past in the next few chapters as I flesh out his back story. I have several more in the works as well. I hope you enjoy. **

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The deck of the ship creaked and heaved slightly as she made her way through shallow green swells. A good leeward breeze made for favorable sailing. The sky above boasted only a few clouds, intent on their own business, they ignored the scene below. The vessel, named _Queen Margo's Pride_, was a small merchant ship, old but serviceable still. The Captain knew his craft and didn't neglect spending gold on needed repairs and refurbishment. She wasn't nearly as fast as a newer vessel with better trim and sails, but she wasn't as costly to man or keep afloat either. A bucket she may be, but a reliable bucket. With her freshly scraped hull she was making a steady seven knots. Very respectable indeed for an old girl. Her crew was well-trained and obviously knew their ship and fellow shipmates well.

The assassin, traveling under the guise of a prosperous merchant, had booked passage as one of only three passengers currently aboard. He didn't mind the slower passage, it gave him time to think. Time to think and time to plan. His resources in the target area were sparse, reliable information was hard to come by and months out of date. He usually could parse out the wheat from the chaff, a skill that had served him well over the years. There wasn't much to go on however, and what there was, didn't make a lot of sense. He didn't dare rely entirely on what his employer offered, it was too often biased and actually hindered his efforts. They frequently left out important details if it made them look bad, or didn't fit in with what they wanted you to believe.

According to the old gnome, a term he had taken to calling the little runt of a man who employed him, the Queen was a witch, and highly dangerous. She had to be brought to heel for the safety of everyone. He tried to make it sound like he was a moral crusader, and this was a holy endeavor. The assassin knew better. A few inquiries and he discovered that the old gnome stood to lose a large amount of revenue if the trade sanctions imposed by the Queen were to stand. It was an old story. His employer wasn't innocent by any means and tried to cover up that fact. What the assassin found amusing was that the old gnome thought he cared. If I thought about legalities, who was right, who was wrong, what was just or unjust, I wouldn't be an assassin he thought. And if my employers did, they wouldn't hire me or others like me he mused. That was one of the reasons he became what he was, he hated the aristocracy. He believed them to be leeches and parasites on society. He didn't care if they all killed each other off. He embraced it, enjoyed it, had made it his life's work the past few decades. The voyage had a few days left to it, he allowed himself the luxury of thinking about the past, of reminiscing about what could have been. What should have been.

Of course I wasn't born the Signet Assassin. I haven't needed or wanted to be called by my real name in years. Elazar was my given name. It sounded strange even to me now, over thirty years later. I was an only son and lived with my mother. I never knew my father. My questions about him were cut off short by my mother.

"He died in the wars" was the most satisfactory answer I ever received. I learned quickly that the pain those questions caused her was not worth the asking.

We lived on the outskirts of a small town famous for the horses bred there. Our modest farm dedicated most of its hectares to growing barley as silage for the horse trade. We planted the others in clover and rye and worked a three-part rotation system as was common to most farms in our area. I didn't know the work was hard since that was all I had ever done since I could remember. I loved going fishing in the small stream near our cottage in what little free time I had. I rarely came home empty-handed and my mother welcomed the change in menu. The patience it took to be a successful angler had bode me well later in life.

I was coming home with two perch and a fat trout I had caught when it all changed. I was thinking how good that trout was going to taste for dinner. My mama had a way with trout, all breaded up and fried, it made my mouth water thinking of it. Maybe that's why I didn't see the men until it was too late. I should have sensed something was wrong, but I was too intent on my stomach to notice.

There were several strange horses in the yard. That should have sent me running, but it didn't. It was the noises coming from our small cottage that galvanized me into sprinting. I didn't realize then that I ran in the wrong direction. The door was wide open, Mama never left it open, that told me something was horribly amiss. I burst through not knowing what to expect, resolving to stop it no matter what. I never dreamed in my worst nightmares that I would witness what I did. My mother was lying on the small table that served as the focus of our small home. Held in place by three rough men, she thrashed about screaming and swearing oaths I didn't realize that she even knew. Their intent was clear, I may have been a lad of nine, but I knew enough about men and woman to know what was happening.

"Well well what do we have here?" one of the craven bastards said as I ran into the tiny room. A hero come to save the day? All three of them laughed at the man's foul wit.

My mother looked over with fear in her eyes, "RUN" she screamed, "Elazar run!"

I froze in place, panic gripped me like a rabbit in a foxes gaze. Another one of the bandits came in unseen behind me and cuffed me in the head so hard it knocked me down, stars swam in my eyes. He then picked me up like I was a doll and hurled me into the wall.

"You just sit there and watch little brat, or you'll regret it." Try to run and I'll gut your mother like those fish on your stringer, the big thug said.

Numb with pain and shock, I had no choice but comply. My mother suffered the abuses of all the men present, all six of them. I could only stare in shame and disgrace.

"We got what we came for, and bit more as well" said the apparent leader, time to mount up and head back to the company.

"What about the wench and her brat," replied one of the nastier looking ones, what do you want to do with them he sneered.

"Take the lad, we're running short on chore boys, he'll live if he'll work." Dispose of the woman. She gave us what we needed, but there's no need to leave witnesses about to spread tales.

And with that the leader grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt and made me watch my mother die.

"Sorry lass, thanks for the good time, but orders are orders," said the nasty one as he closed on my mothers prostrate form. She cried silently as the blade came down quickly. He looked at me as he wiped my mother's life off his blade and sheathed it. "Be grateful I made it quick and merciful," he said as he smiled and walked past.

"Alright play times over, mount up" said the leader. I was unceremoniously shackled and tossed on the back of one of their horses and my new life of hell began.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Sorry I'm taking so long guys. I'm working on several other projects at the same time. I wanted to give the assassin some more back story, I will bounce back to his beginnings after this chapter. Feedback is encouraged. Thanks.**

The passage went quickly and slowly at the same time. Sea voyages had a way of warping time like that. The assassin kept mostly to himself. But it would look strange if he didn't mingle and socialize with the other passengers somewhat. Traveling merchants spent a lot of time and energy cultivating new contacts and business partners. One never knew when a friendship could prove lucrative. On a few occasions he played cards with the other passengers to pass the time. The assassin was an accomplished card player. Reading body language as a fighter served him just as readily in cards as in combat. In fact, it was much easier. In cards, your rival is usually just trying to take your money, not your life. He made sure not to win too much or too little. No need to make others resent him and give cause to remember him more than they should. The other passengers and crew gossiped, told outrageous lies about women, tales of things they had done or seen. He had accumulated a wealth of knowledge in his travels and adventures and could speak on dozens of topics intelligently. More importantly, he had developed listening and drawing out answers from others into an art form. One never knew when some minor tidbit of information would prove to be critical. The assassin absorbed it all like a sponge.

Apparently the Queen of Arendelle was a magic wielder. She had been born with the power and had concealed it successfully growing up. That's why she had been sequestered from a young age. Apparently she never learned to control it well and it all unraveled at her coronation reception ball.

In the aftermath of the ball, a young prince from the Southern Isles tried to usurp the throne. From the tales he had gleaned, Anna, the Crown Princess, had heroically given her life to save her sister the Queen. She was restored to life by the love of her sister through magical means. The details were fuzzy, everyone had different versions of what had occurred. The truth was somewhere in the middle the assassin mused, it usually was.

It seems the Prince had been engaged to the Crown Princess and tried to speed things along and kill the new Queen. "What a fool," he thought. All he had to to was wait, the Queen would have most likely abdicated, he would have gained the throne by his marriage to Crown Princess Anna. Like most royals he had encountered, his ego got in the way of his common sense. It seems his employer was involved in trying to assassinate the queen as well in another rather clumsy plot at the same time. The Queen had broken all ties to Weselton as a result. They were lucky that Queen Elsa was so young and inexperienced. A more seasoned monarch would have gone to war over such a threat. If the Queen's powers were to be believed, she could have destroyed Weselton easily.

The Queen is rather interesting he thought. She had the right to execute the Prince for his crimes and the Duke as well, but she hadn't. The prince was sent packing under guard to his homeland to await judgment. The Assassin had learned that Queen Elsa had sent a packet ship to the Southern Isles with a personal eyes only letter to their ruler, King Andrew. No one knew exactly what it contained, save the two monarchs. The rumor was that Queen Elsa asked his father to have mercy on his son. She had forgiven his rash actions and asked for clemency, that his life be spared. She knew that he could have been easily executed for his crimes. She didn't want to force King Andrew to make the horrible decision of executing his own child, and she didn't want his life to be on her conscience as well. What ever it said, it worked. The prince was stripped of his titles, but not his life. He was sentenced to internal exile.

The Duke was barred from court while his King figured out what to do with him. The Duke had enormous financial leverage, which was the only reason he hadn't been imprisoned or executed yet. He still had a lot of power despite what had happened and the loss of revenue while painful, hadn't crippled him financially yet.

The assassin didn't know if Queen Elsa was merciful, naïve, or just ignorant about politics. If not any of that, she was so powerful she didn't worry about what she considered minor threats. He suspected it was a mixture of all of them. Either way it was a difficult challenge, even to someone with his skills.

Overt force would probably not work. Aside from Queen Elsa's own powers, the Arendelle Royal Navy, or ARN, as it was more commonly called, had to considered. While small, it was well trained, well equipped, and most importantly, well led. Admiral Gustaff, it's commander, was the cousin of the former king. He was fiercely loyal to the crown, and made sure that the ARN was as well. He had acted as one of the queen's regent advisers before she assumed formal control of the kingdom. The ARN was highly respected in the region for maintaining safe shipping lanes and keeping the peace. Their Royal Marines were a force to be reckoned with as well. Their fearsome reputation as highly disciplined and ferocious fighters in combat was well deserved. To make matters worse, Arendelle was strategically placed defensively. Treacherous currents and a nasty approach to her capital made it folly to attack from seaward unless you had over whelming force at your disposal. And that wasn't even considering the queens powers. From the landward side it was even more challenging. The mountains made it near impossible to maneuver. A few key passes could be held with minimal forces against much greater numbers. Even though the kingdom was rich in resources, it was a tough nut to crack, and so few had tried in it's long history.

All those thoughts flowed through his mind like a swirling stream. The assassin was on deck smoking his pipe and enjoying the cool night air. It was good place to think. Except for the evening watch, most of the crew were in their hammocks sleeping. The other three passengers were playing cards with the ships Captain is his quarters. Sneaky and subtle was to key he thought. As in most things, if you did what no one expected, you could get away with quite a bit. A plan started to form in his mind. "We dock in Arendelle in the morning," he thought. I'll do some local reconnaissance, and finalize the details in a few more days.


End file.
